


Come Sweet Death

by Merrinpippy



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Multiple Suicide Attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:21:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrinpippy/pseuds/Merrinpippy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Steve Rogers tries to commit suicide is in the winter of 1931, when he’s 13 years old. It's not the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Sweet Death

**Author's Note:**

> Come sweet Death  
> Sing me a serenade  
> To wash away  
> The blood that stains  
> Every single part of me.
> 
> Not sure if the suicidal thoughts stemmed from this or if this stemmed from the suicidal thoughts, but either way, here you go.

The first time Steve Rogers tries to commit suicide is in the winter of 1931, when he’s 13 years old. It’s when Bucky finally finds out about his partial deafness, and his…different version of colour blindness. It’s not much of a big deal to Bucky- he takes it surprisingly well, and is so supportive it makes Steve feel like crying.

Which he does. A lot.

It’s when he’s so sick, literally and figuratively, of his many afflictions, that he’s had enough.

He feels guilt, as he’s preparing the noose, because his mother and Bucky will probably miss him, but he dismisses it. They will be happier and better off without him dragging them down.

He ties the noose, made from an old scarf of his mother’s, and attaches it to a hook in the wall meant for something that was never put up. It’s make-shift, but if it’s what it takes to die, then it’s good enough for him.

He would have killed himself, he’s sure of it, if his mother didn’t walk in that second and gasp loudly with a horrified voice that hurts Steve inside, and immediately pull him away and clutch at him and- she talks to him all night, calming him and probably herself as well, reassuring him that he’s too important to die.

“Stevie, honey, you’re all that I’ve got!”

“But mama, you waste so much money and time on me. You could have a better life without me.” His voice is calm, unlike what he feels inside; desperate, scared, filled with self-loathing. She doesn’t deserve to be weighed down by him and his illnesses.

“Oh, Stevie…” His mother sighs, pulling him into her arms, soothing him. She kisses his cheek, and whispers against his ear. “I don’t want to have a life without you, my darling boy. Promise me you’ll stay with me?”

She sounds so broken that his self-loathing increases- he’s made her feel this way. Shame bows his head. “I promise, mama.”

She sleeps with him that night, clutching him in her arms, sheltering him from himself. He’s thankful for it.

He doesn’t tell Bucky about it the next day when they see each other after school. Bucky sticks to his right side and takes his hand and Steve revels in the younger boy's presence, as always. He tells himself being near Bucky is worth living.

Bucky never finds out about this particular suicide attempt.

* * *

 

The second time Steve tries to kill himself is in 1936, when he’s 18. His mother has died, and he’s just been to her funeral. _His mother’s funeral._ It’s surreal.

It’s just as surreal as the knife he’s holding- the one he could use to slit his own throat.

Buck’d said “’Til the end of the line, pal.” It won’t take as long as he’d assumed.

He brings the knife closer to his neck, breathing in, breathing out. He can do this. He can end the pain, everything. He’s keeping his promise: he never left her, she left him. He’s going to find her and stay with her again, like he’d promised her.  

Bucky will be better off, and with neither him nor his mother living, he won’t have many reminders that Steve was ever there at all. Then Bucky can go and make real friends who are his equals (no-one could ever be Bucky’s equal) and take Steve’s place. Make Bucky happier than he is now.

Because that’s all that matters now. Bucky’s happiness.

The door behind him opens. “Hey Punk, I was just wonderin’- _oh my god.”_

Steve closes his eyes in defeat, lowering the knife but not letting go. He takes another deep breath to steady himself while Bucky wrenches the knife from his grip and practically throws it across the room.

“Steve, no! Why would you- I mean, I get that it’s hard and all, but I…you…oh god.”

Steve wants to kick himself for being this careless, but of course Bucky would stop him. He should have known.

Bucky pulls Steve close to his body and shuffles them both over to a sofa that’s seen better days. He sits them both down and grips Steve’s shoulders tightly, eyes flickering all over Steve’s body. “Steve, Steve, Steve…oh my go- please tell me this is the first time, please, I…”

Steve complies. “Yeah, yeah Buck.”

Bucky pulls him in for a hug, a tight hug that Steve gives back in as much force as he can, and they’re both crying. Bucky only pulls back when Steve starts coughing, soothing him and trying to help even out his breathing.

Bucky runs his hands all over Steve, touching every part of him he can, like he’s convincing himself that’s Steve’s still there. He’s still crying, and Steve _can_ remember the last time Bucky cried like this because it was the last time Steve had been so ill they both thought it was the end of the line. Bucky had been right there next to him, crying and holding his hand while Steve lay on his bed, trying to comfort him because Bucky’d needed it more than Steve.

Bucky whispers his name now, over and over like a mantra, holding him close. “Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, agh-” he breaks off, searching for words, eyes darting around as he does, still wearing the same clothes as earlier at _Steve’s mother’s funeral_. He finds them; Steve knows because Bucky looks him right in the eyes, and makes sure Steve’s looking right back.

“Steve, I couldn’t bear it if you died. You’re everything to me, Punk, y’know? I just, I need you. So much. And you…we’ll make it through this, yeah? We’ll get through it and then we’ll live happily.”

Steve tries give him a smile, but it must instead reflect what he’s feeling inside, because Bucky closes his eyes and shakes against a silent sob, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and embracing him. Steve, despite being smaller, holds Bucky and cries with him, silently, because maybe. Just maybe, they’ll make it through, but there is no happy ending. Not for Steve.

Bucky will leave him eventually for a wife and kids and a real life, and Steve will be able to do this alone, with no-one stopping him.

But Steve holds Bucky to him because, until that happens, Steve can bask in Bucky and everything that makes him Steve’s best friend.

“’Til the end of the line,” Bucky whispers to him for the second time that day, and Steve lets himself believe that, for a little while, it’s true.

* * *

 

The third time Steve tries to commit suicide, he is 21, and Bucky is 17. The year is 1939.

Steve Rogers is in love with Bucky Barnes, and Bucky is, at the moment, chasing dames. Steve hates himself.

Even if Bucky did love him, Steve would never be good enough. Hell, Steve isn’t good enough as a friend, it’s no wonder why Bucky’s seeking the company of the ladies so much.

This time it’s the noose again, and the same scarf, too. It’s one of the things he’d hidden away and kept, all these years, still in the same shape it’d been the first time. Steve glares at it for still fitting around his neck just the same, glares at it because he is unable to glare at himself for being this pathetic, this skinny, and this sick.

This in love. With his own best friend. Steve would never be enough for him, no matter what he could try to do, because he isn’t a beautiful dame, he isn’t even a handsome man. He’s barely a man. And he’s not good enough. Never good enough.

He steps on the stool, and holds the noose with his hands to steady it before he puts his head through the loop. He startles as the sudden voice from the door.

“Don’t do this.”

His eyes widen and he gapes at his friend, who’s staring at him the same way Steve would expect a man on fire to stare. “…Bucky?”

Bucky twists his lip, expression scrunching before he starts to cry. He grips the doorframe to steady himself, and his knuckles turn white with the effort. Steve steps from the stool, still gaping at him, and walks cautiously towards his friend.

“Bucky, I-I thought you were out, with- with those pretty girls…”

Bucky lets go of the wall all of a sudden and faces Steve, still crying, and shakes his head. “I was. I was- but if I still was, then you’d have. You’d have.” He gestures helplessly to the noose and stool behind him. “Why?! And why now?!”

Steve’s knees give way and he falls to the floor- he can’t cope with Bucky like this, it hurts him too much and _this_ is what he’d been trying to avoid.

“I couldn’t,” Is all Steve can say when he hits the floor, while Bucky makes a panicked noise and lifts him up, takes him to his bed and lies him down on it. Bucky braces himself over Steve, looking down, and Steve doesn’t want to see the tears trailing down Bucky’s face, but Bucky forces him to.

“Couldn’t what?”

“I couldn’t be…around you, anymore-” He’s explaining himself badly and the immense look of hurt and anguish on Bucky’s face makes him shake his head almost violently, saying, “No, Buck, let me finish! I just. I. Bucky, you’re going to hate me after this, just so you know, and-”

“Steve! I could never, ever hate you! So tell me, then, why you can’t _stand_ to be around me.” Bucky speaks defiantly, but he can’t erase the hurt emotion leaking into his voice, and Steve snaps.

“Because I love you, dammit Buck! I just, I see you with all these dames and it _hurts,_ and I- because you don’t deserve me holding you back from your happiness because I’m too selfish to let you go!”

Bucky stares at him, emotionless, and Steve closes his eyes and looks away, ashamed. But Bucky gently takes hold of his face and pulls it back to face him.

“Steve, the only reason I went out with those dames is because I was worried you’d find out that I love you.” Bucky’s shoulders droop, and he rests his forehead against Steve’s.

Steve’s eyes widen, and he moves his hand to the back of Bucky’s neck, and pulls ever so slightly on his hair, forcing Bucky’s head to look down at an angle so Steve can slowly, hesitantly, lift his head off the bed and…

Bucky reacts immediately, cupping Steve’s face and kissing him with a passion. A warm feeling fills Steve as he kisses back, and he forgets about the day, forgets about his suicide attempt, his only thoughts for Bucky and his lips, his eyes, just everything about him.

Bucky smiles when they break off the kiss, and it’s truly beautiful. He stays the night, and they sleep curled up against each other, with Bucky whispering endearments into Steve’s ear until he falls asleep. “I’m yours, Stevie, and only yours.”

Steve doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as Bucky, he thinks as he drifts off, but because he’s selfish, he’ll take it.

* * *

 

The fourth time he tries to end his life, Steve is 23 and the year is 1941. America has joined the Second World War and Bucky has been sent off to Fort Dix. Steve doesn’t know when or even if he’ll see Bucky again, and now he has no friends.

And of course, Steve can’t just follow Bucky; his list of ailments touches the floor and, as they tell him, he’d be ineligible on his asthma alone. They keep barring him from serving his country, though he has no right to stay behind while everyone else gets themselves killed. He keeps trying but it seems there’s no hope for him, and he feels lost without his best friend and secret lover.

So as he holds the rat poison in his hands he smiles, because this time, there is no-one to stop him.

All he has to do is eat it.

So why is this so hard?

His expression changes as immediately as his mood. He scowls, putting the box of poison down on the counter. He’s so weak he can’t even take his own life the one time he can.

It’s because of Bucky, he’s sure of it. He can hear him in his head, and it’s not helping him to do this. Memories of what happened the last times. Ugh.

_I couldn’t bear it if you died._

Shut up.

_You’re everything to me._

Shut _up,_ Bucky. You’re not wanted here.

_Don’t do this._

Steve takes the rat poison in his hands, fumbling with it. He’s going insane, and it’s a good time as ever to do it. 

_Why now?!_

“Because you’re not here!” Steve shouts at an empty apartment, dropping the box on the floor. His shoulders slump and he buries his head in his hands. “You’re not here, and you might not be again.”

_I love you._

“Not a much as I love you, and clearly not enough to keep you with me,” Steve mumbles into his hands.

_‘Til the end of the line._

“Who’s line?” Steve’s glad, for once, that Bucky’s not here to answer that question.

_Only yours._

Steve laughs and shakes his head- he truly is going insane- but he climbs up onto a stool and puts the rat poison onto a high shelf. Maybe later. Now, he’s off to enlist.

_Punk._

* * *

 

The next time he tries to commit suicide, he actually succeeds, or so he thinks. It’s 1945, and Steve is 26, and he’s not pathetic anymore, at least on the outside.

He’d been truly happy; serving his country with his best friend and lover by his side, strong for once in his life. He could _see._ Oh, the colours he’d missed out on all his life, the beautiful greens, purples, yellows, pinks, oranges, and all the colours in between that he’d never been able to see.

He’d seen Bucky how he was supposed to look, and he was somehow even more amazing than he was before, and he was truly spectacular before. Of course, his eyes had stayed the same brilliant blue. Steve had been glad for that.

He’d had friends, too. Howard, Peggy, Dum Dum, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier. To a degree, even Colonel Phillips.

But Bucky had been ripped away from him- or rather, Steve let Bucky fall away from him. Bucky had died because of him, and with him went the colours and the happiness.

He hadn’t even been able to get drunk to spare him the pain for even a few hours.

And now, now he has an excuse better than anything else. A sacrifice, not a suicide. At least, that’s what he’ll tell Bucky when he sees him in the afterlife, after he’s apologised a million and more times for what he’d done to him. God, if only he could erase Bucky’s face as he fell from his mind.

He steers the plane down and comforts Peggy, because she needs it. The hitch in her voice betrays her sorrow at his clearly approaching death, but he has to do this, he has to be selfish one last time. Because he had not been there for Bucky until the end of the line, but he’s sure as hell gonna be with him after the line has stopped.

“I’d hate to step on your-”

It’s cold, and the end is coming.

It’s sharp, and the end is coming.

He crawls, lies down on the metal slanted floor, the frost clawing at him and the end is coming.

There’s no Bucky to tell him to stop this time, perhaps because it’s useless, perhaps because his heart knows that Bucky is dead, and the end is coming.

The end of the line is here.

* * *

 

The last time Steve tries to commit suicide is 66 years later, but only two years in his mind. Two years without Bucky. Steve is supposedly 94 but he’s really 28, and Bucky…is still alive, but not Bucky anymore.

He’d barely known Steve.

The agony he felt when he’d woken up and realised he’d failed was nothing compared to that which he felt at Bucky’s words, “Who the hell is Bucky?”

And damn, if Steve didn’t want Bucky to just end it there on the hellicarrier as it was falling, if Steve didn’t want Bucky to just snap his neck. But Bucky had recognised him then, Steve thinks. The look of horror…

So when he’d hit the water and been unable to move, he hadn’t really minded. Because maybe he’d get to be with the real Bucky, and if not, at least he wouldn’t have to endure this life.

And Bucky chose then to drag him out, save him like he’d been doing since Steve had been a teenager. But he’d just left.

Steve hadn’t seen him since.

Of course, Steve and Sam had tried, tried for months but they aren’t any closer than they were when Bucky had disappeared.

And finally, Steve has given up, and it’s not even the first time, it’s more like the fiftieth.

The pills are much more enticing than the rat poison he remembers using, or that scarf, or that knife. The promise of peace.

The cold night air caresses his face, blowing in from the window of his apartment, and he sighs in contentment as he accepts what he’s about to do. What he’s been trying to do for years and never actually succeeded in.

Closing his eyes, he lifts his head back and brings the pills to him mouth, smiling. He lets them fall from his hand into his mouth-

Except they never reach his mouth.

He cries out in pain as his back slams against a wall, held there by a strong…metal hand. He opens his eyes again, and the sight he sees renders him speechless.

The eyes are the same, always the same, but they’re _furious._ Filled with uncontainable rage, and Steve thinks, yes, do it now. But he’s let go, and hands are placed either side of him to keep him trapped.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” Bucky almost snarls, or is it the Winter Soldier? He can’t tell.

It takes him a few moments to regain the ability of speech, but he does. “Thought that was pretty obvious, even for you.”

Bucky blinks and glares at him, his metal hand clenching.

“You wanna kill me, Buck? Go ahead, I’m not stopping you.” He’s outright taunting, and it’s a little mean, but Steve has gone past the point where he wants to die.

“I don’t. Want. To kill you.” Bucky grits the words out, and he’s _very_ angry.

“Then let me do it,” Steve spits back, annoyed and pushing down that feeling of hope that’s trying to burst through his chest. When he tries to move, Bucky forces him back.

“Don’t move.” Bucky orders him, and Steve’s about to make a smart-ass remark about not being able to when Bucky speaks again. “What the fuck, Steve.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Steve replies, but he can’t bring himself to be aggressive.

Bucky shakes his head, looking for words. “What- _why,_ why were you going to- to _kill_ yourself?” Bucky’s still brimming with a murderous rage, but his words still sound horrified, and Bucky really needs to teach Steve how to do that.  

Steve closes his eyes, defeated. Bucky’s not going to accept anything that isn’t the truth. “Because…” Steve struggles with the right way to say it, and when he does, he looks Bucky in the eyes. “Because without you, I have nothing to live for.”

Bucky stares at him, but most of the rage visibly falls off of him. He doesn’t say anything.

“I owe you my death, anyway. I didn’t die when I wanted to, any of the times, and then when I tried to die to join you, I failed. Even when you tried to kill me I wouldn’t die, and I want to now. I wanted to- why are you here?” Steve cuts off his babbling.

Bucky’s arms fall to his sides. “To be- because I- you’re Steve. Steven Grant Rogers.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “…Yes?”

“And I love you.” Bucky says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“You what?”

“I love you. I, in the past, when I- the old me loved you, and you loved him, but I love you now and I wanted to. Tell you? Ask you if- if maybe you’d…” Bucky looks like he’s regretting his choice as his eyes dart around and he looks for a way to explain. If Steve knew what he was trying to say, he’d help him. “If maybe you’d take me back? I guess. It seems kinda stupid now, but I thought. Well, I haven’t thought in 66 years, not until I saw you again, so I’m kinda new to this thinking thing and…”

Bucky trails off, looking anywhere but at Steve. “Bucky,” Steve whispers. Bucky meets his gaze, if slowly. “Bucky, I love you. I loved you then and I’m in love with you now. When you doubt me, doubt anything, just don’t doubt that.”

Bucky rests his head against Steve’s, and Steve wraps his arms around him. “I’m not him anymore, you know,” he breathes, face full of regret.

“Do you remember anything?”

“I remember you.”

“What exact-”

“I remember that _this_ ,” Bucky gestures to where he’d knocked the pills, “isn’t the first damned time you’ve done that.”

Steve aims for a casual tone. “Actually, I’ve never used pills before.”

Bucky gives him his best are-you-fucking-kidding-me face and Steve smiles as innocently as he can. “That’s not fucking reassuring, punk.”

“It’s true!”

Bucky sends him a sad look, the one that tells Steve that this isn’t okay and he should probably stop.

“Buck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s just- I remember the other times. And you- they’re probably not the only ones, right?”

“When you were in Fort Dix.” Steve deliberately leaves out his earliest attempt; Bucky probably wouldn’t be able to stand that he’d tried at age 13.

Bucky’s face twists in an effort not to cry, and Steve- Steve doesn’t really know what to do in this situation, how to help, because he’d never really felt sad about his own death wish. “Bucky, Bucky look at me. I’m here now.”

“But you don’t want to be.” _I was- but if I still was, then you’d have. You’d have._

“I do now.” Steve tells him truthfully, because he does. Bucky’s _here_ and alive and maybe not whole, but not completely broken either. He takes hold of Bucky’s flesh arm gently and leads him to his bed, much more luxurious than he’s used to, even now.

Bucky sobs, a low, broken sound that Steve closes his eyes at, but he continues to methodically take off Bucky’s clothes until he’s naked. He pushes Bucky into bed, and does the same to himself. Bucky shows no resistance and he’s crying with panicked breaths when Steve joins him.

Bucky pulls Steve to him, clutching at him but being careful not to hurt him. Steve drags the covers over them and returns his full attention to Bucky, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him on the cheek.

Bucky makes sure his body touches every part of Steve’s that he can, and though he’s still crying his breathing is slowing.

“Please don’t leave me, Stevie. Never ever.”

Despite himself, Steve smiles, because he knows that this is definitely Bucky and there’s no way he’s ever going to leave him now. Steve tightens his hold ever so slightly and Bucky responds in kind.

“Nah, Buck. You’re stuck with me, ‘cause I’m never going to leave you again.”  

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://ravenroac.tumblr.com/), or leave comments below telling me what you thought. Thanks for reading!


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